


Kiss Me

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Episode Related, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-01-26
Updated: 2001-01-26
Packaged: 2018-11-10 07:58:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11123037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: In the aftermath of "Ladies Man", emotions run high.





	Kiss Me

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    Blue eyes, rimmed in gold.
    
    Gray eyes, rimmed in ebony.
    
    The blue eyes are dry now, but they scream, they howl, they rage like
    a violent ocean, dark and dilated with adrenaline.  In them, one can
    see the narrow escape mirrored, see the blood of the woman that nearly
    stained his hands and still stains his heart.  Traces of salt water bead
    on the lashes, glistening like brutal gemstones in the light filtering
    in from the street lamp. 
    
    The beads grow, swell.  The gold lashes come down as the fine brows tighten,
    lines crumpling into the edges of the eyes.  A gasp.  Breath shuddering
    in and out in desperate tremors, trying for a last heartbeat not to do
    it.  Not to give in.  Not to cry. 
    
    Men don't cry.
    
    The heart behind the blue eyes rebels.  Wrenching its way up his throat,
    the pain and the guilt escape in a deep sob, a gutteral, wounded sound.
    Another  sob.  A cry, soft and keening.  The beads have grown to rivers,
    cutting silver trails down angular cheeks that haven't been shaven in
    too long. 
    
    Blonde head bows forward.  Resting the forehead against the cool, slightly
    tacky leather of the steering wheel as thin shoulders shudder beyond
    control.  The cries grow further, and now even the pretense of control
    has been abandoned.  Humiliation of tears is lost in their cause, lost
    in the ineluctable guilt that has blurred every thought and emotion into
    a single haze of what if and why couldn't I.  The sobs trip over each
    other, clutching and hurting in the chest, caught into choking sounds
    that are almost coughs as breath is fought for. 
    
    Gray eyes reflect the pain, not knowing the true depth of it, but hurting
    all the more for being locked outside, for being unable to offer balm
    onto the bleeding wounds.  Dark lashes fan like Spanish lace over creamy
    cheeks, the gray hidden.  Nothing to do, nothing to say, nothing to think
    to ease the waves of guilt pouring from the blue-eyed man. 
    
    One thick arm reaches out, draping across narrow shoulders.  Weathered
    fingers pat gently, trying to offer some rhythmic solace where he knows
    he can give none.  The gesture seems pitiful, meaningless, even insulting.
    What more can he give?  
    
    Not taught.  
    
    Not prepared.  
    
    Not for this.  
    
    For when it can't be held in anymore.  For when the hurt is bleeding
    all over you and you can't stop it and you can't help it and you can't
    see it and you can't touch it but it is and its there and you'd give
    anything absolutely anything to make it go away. 
    
    Oh God.  Blonde head falls against broad chest clad in flannel.  Oh God.
    
    Now what?
    
    Without thinking, arms fold across shuddering back.  Clutching each other.
    Moisture gathers behind the ebony lashes.  Can't be this close to the
    pain.  Can't push it away. 
    
    Coalescing together, two pains melting into one, burning brighter.  Burning
    hotter.  Immolating souls.  Charring hearts.  Cremating spirits beyond
    hope and into wordless despair. 
    
    Blonde head and tawny flesh tilts up.  Dark curls and milky flesh tilts
    down.  Moist tongue runs over reddened, bitten lips.  Mouths meet.  Taste
    the tears.  Blue eyed tears.  Gray eyed tears.  Golden tears.  Dark tears.
    Mingled beyond recognition. 
    
    No one thinking of the meaning of it.  Is it wrong?  Is it right?  Feels
    wrong and right and good and bad but what does it matter, because its
    contact.  It's contact, someone else to wrap the hurt around. 
    
    Lips crush together tighter.  Hands explore faces.  One set of hands
    like bird's claws, thin and delicate and desperate, chewed nails leaving
    reddened trails over clean-shaven cheeks.  One set like plowman's hands,
    thick knuckles and callused palms, gentle as an artist, caressing fine
    boned face and golden stubble like delicate orchid's petal. 
    
    Tentative, tongue tests out.  Encounters lips which part, invite.  Dancing.
    Perfect rhythm, perfect unity.  Don't even need to ask, don't even need
    to question the rightness, because the rightness is there, unspoken.
    Harder now, faster.  Taste and feel and breathe and caress and kiss away
    the pain.  
    
    Make it go away make it go away make it go away make it go away makeitgoaway.
    
    Lips part.  Breathing hard.  Ribcages heaving.  Gray eyes open.  Blue
    eyes open.  Fingers trace moisture down cheeks.  
    
    Oh God.  Oh God.  What have we done?
    
    Come back.
    
    THE END
    
    Voyagerbabe...Wan2BCanuk on IRC
    Keeper of the dead animal hat that goes with the blue
    serge, Fraser's 'broken face' when he gets home in COTW, Meg's left-handed
    Sam Browne, Meg's hands around Fraser's waist as they ride double in ATQH,
    the grope from Pizza and Promises, and Fraser and Thatcher's unrequited
    sexuality. 
    
    Voyagerbabe's Drop In The Fanfic Bucket:                http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Starship/6102/home.html
    
    


End file.
